The Realm of David Gaines


To be a Fayettevillain
Reminiscing...
Ever since leaving the place nicked Fayette'nam, I don't find myself wanting to return anytime soon. Maybe the holidays and my mom's birthday. But I can't help but to remember the people of this place I still sometimes call home. Nowhere across this globe are you going to find the most mixed up medley of characters, personalities and the most insane fools ever to speak.

Fayettevillains simply have a completely different perception of life. We live in a world that exists because of men and women who kill for a living. It's the elite of the military, the 82nd Airborne, that keeps Fayetteville on the map. Well, that and high crime concentration statistics.

I remember a sniper during a PT exercise on post picking off soldiers; the Luigi's incident of the mad shooter, the Golphin brothers mowing law officers down by the Interstate; a Nazi-wannabe executing a black couple downtown which led to discovering Nazi cults in the military; the double homicide at Fayetteville State University, a few hours after someone was shot in the chest at the male dormitory; countless shootouts, involving people with whom I went to school; countless *sswhippin's, beatings and burials; the Fatal Vision drama.

If it wasn't the military, it was crime that kept Fayetteville on CNN.

And when we weren't dodging bullets trying to get to Cross Creek Mall, we were watching our friends and family members in the military spread across the globe fighting for their lives and ours. Or we watch as those who have fought still fight in the sense of Persian Gulf Syndrome or something else that has had a huge affect on the way they live today.

And if it wasn't some of the above, it was Uncle Sam sending our closest friends somewhere else and bringing in new people trying to make their mark on their new stopping grounds. Moving is just a way of life for military brats; and because of the way the military works, this also affects the non-military locals who make military brat friends and have to watch them get sent away every three years or so.



Thinking about what makes Fayetteville what it is, I can't help but to have some sort of pride of being a part of it. I lived there from kindergarten to three years out of high school. And no matter how much I try not to, I still call it home. Fayettevillains don't ask why us? We don't question why we're the ones who have to live such lifestyles. Almost blindly we float through one day after with each other - soldiers hired to kill and those who have to live in this mentality.

I watch a lot of people come to Greensboro because of North Carolina A&T State University with pride of their hometowns. The DC heads play their go-go and starting holler about the Metro; New Yorkers roll real tight, thanks to the NY-NJ Connection, sportin' their Yankee "skullies" and wearing out that northern accent; Midwest Aggies still run around calling soda "pop" and instead of going to the movies, some go check out "a show." Country Aggies have invented several hundred new words known only around here in the South and put barbeque sandwiches on the map.

But Fayetteville Aggies, well, they don't do much to get noticed as a Fayetteville Aggie. It just shows. It's the attitude. And when someone finds out you're from Fayetteville, here comes the jokes. Here comes the nicks for our home - Fatalville, Fayettefarm, Fayettevillage, Fayettehell.



But nothing fazes us. We wear the labels with pride. We don't walk around wearing Fayetteville paraphernalia or making a big deal about being the home of the original Putt-Putt, but we do have some form of pride in our home.




© March 1999
A Period Production of Surelock.